They were always lined up in a row at the foot of my bed.
My babies {or dolls}.
I was born with a deep-down need to nurture.
Experiences burned a desire to make sure any child in my path knew what it is to be mothered well.
It started with my dolls. I loved Cabbage Patch kids because they were adopted. They came with a certificate that said they needed me. I still remember their names. There was Paula with the cornsilk hair, April had freckles, Noreen that could go in the pool and tub with me and Addie, my first African-American daughter.
I say first because a special thing took place for our family on Monday.
Miss S. had long ago woven herself into the fabric of our family. She came to us needing a mama {and a daddy} that she could count on, consistent rules and unconditional love.
And, a year to the date that she came into our home and a few days before Sweet Pea’s first birthday {tomorrow!}, a judge agreed that she was our daughter and we are her parents.
We were asking for something rather unorthodox, in that Miss S. is an adult. But, starting fresh and knowing that we are committed to her was important. We needn’t have worried. The judge {whom we had been warned was a hard nose} even said “it is obvious the Good Lord knew what He was doing when He introduced you to each other”.
So, without further adieu, I am so proud to introduce you to our daughter, Shayla Smallwood.
Our celebratory lunch
And, I guess that makes me one of the world’s youngest grandparents {although I prefer Mimi}, huh?
Thank you for all that were praying for us on Monday and now you know what you were praying for!
